Storytelling Johnny, sit me on your knee
Recite me some memory, no one else need see
Glowing with gossip of some gamine from Glossop

Boyish girl with a rucksack, girlish boy with a bad back
You're high on Wittgenstein, you are kind with red wine
Whispering after a time, 'I alone, am mine'

Storytelling Johnny, crying like Niobe
Moaning, 'If only others were as tidy as me
I once attempted love but it was, oh so messy'

'Not like in the movies, where at least it's much shorter
It's best to dye your hair, it's best to change your name
Rather than pin the blame on some helpless mother'

I long for today to be just like it was at school
Where I was nearly loved just for sharing my answers
But the happy adult look wasn't in any Osborne book

And a gold star in algebra, won't get you far
(Except the bar)
And in a hopeful maisonette, the girl pushed a boy away and said
'These hips are not child bearing, they're child spurning
And child sparing and child scaring'

I was getting so afraid, I nearly had a t-shirt made
Saying, 'Lose friends in days, ask me how'
She is now smoking menthols
Because she heard they make you sterile

She says, 'I'm helping evolution while remaining very stylish
And, oh, it's also very handy for removing a young family
From a crowded cafe, I just light up and swear loudly
Well, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry'

Storytelling Johnny, throw your words around me
You never fail to regale with a new tale
You're still high on Wittgenstein, you're still ready with red wine
You are free from anyone's designs, saying, 'I alone am mine'
You're resigned to 'I alone am mine'